


Love Is A Special Way Of Feeling

by xaccier



Series: dreamnotfound fics [7]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Library, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Books, Everyone Is Gay, First Meetings, Flirting, Gay, Gream - Freeform, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied Relationships, Languages, M/M, Quotations, dreamnotfound, george knows latin pog?, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:28:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28562076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xaccier/pseuds/xaccier
Summary: "there are moments, when you're getting to know someone, when you realise something buried deep within you is buried in them, too, and it feels like meeting a stranger you've known for your whole life."George felt his words cling to his tongue as the man stepped forward, and he stayed glued to the spot even when the blonde dipped down next to him. He seemed to ignore George's entire presence, humourously, as he gathered the book in his arms and placed it back where it belonged. Said boy then proceeded to hold a hand out for George to grab, and only then did George dare to make a move. He titled his head up, face still overrun with bewilderment, and the two finally locked eyes.—george takes a visit to a deserted library, although it turns out to be less deserted than he originally thought.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: dreamnotfound fics [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026964
Comments: 13
Kudos: 163
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	Love Is A Special Way Of Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> i just finished writing this at 2am, and i'm posting it here before i can think twice
> 
> enjoy this little chapter fic thing idk just take it

The library was empty.

Autumn brown bookshelves littered the many walls on the bottom floor of the ancient building, various books spread rather erratically across the wooden shelves. The scent of decaying paper and old ink was apparent, a completely different world compared to the scent of diesel and chimney smoke outside.

Blue covers caught George's attention, having been the only colour he was able to admire, and his echoing footsteps slowed to give them the attention they deserved.

Scribbled on the front of each one was a title, inked on with beautiful arabic writing, and George couldn't have read it if he tried.

Skimming past the brown and the red books, George's eyes landed on the golden spine of a handbook. It could have fitted in George's pocket from the size, and yet somehow, it managed to capture George's stare. The gold flecks spiralled down the spine of the book, framing it perfectly in George's less than professional opinion.

The boy gently placed the books that he had laid in his arms down, neatly stacking them in a pile next to his feet before standing himself back up. His knees cracked at the gesture, echoing quickly around the walls and up through the barren ceiling. George ignored it.

Pulling on the spine of the golden book, George pondered to himself why such a fairytale place was so discarded. He knew of multiple people who would kill to see the things he was seeing--books stacked on books, knowledge stacked on knowledge, wisdom seeping through every word and phrase. Mahogany and maroon beams framed the entire building to feel like a castle of sorts, and George wouldn't have chosen anywhere else in the world to be.

George attempted to read the Latin blurb painted on the back of the book he had pulled from the cobwebbed shelf, before ultimately giving up and quietly flipping it to the front. Eyes scanning, brain working--trying to remember--and yet George couldn't piece together enough letters in the foreign language to understand it. Floorboards creaked under him as he shifted his weight, and he winced as the sound dinned unpleasantly into his ears. Hazel eyes flicked up the empty aisle, as though a secret librarian would be disappointed in his racket.

Tenderly, George unlatched the cold, silver hook that bounded the wrinkled, moose coloured pages together and opened the book wide. The spine cracked at the newfound freedom, and George felt it vibrate solemnly through his palm. The feeling always gave him shivers.

George turned the book on it’s side, thumb stinging as he quickly flicked through hundreds of pages of foreign quotations. His movement ceased, however, when his eyes landed upon one English quote in the midst of Latin and Arabic ones. Gingerly, George read it aloud.

"There are moments," He started, slowly, and his voice reverberated off the walls in a way that made the building seem much larger than it was. "When you're getting to know someone," Dusty corners itched at the back of George's throat from the decades worth of uncleanliness seeping through George's nose when he breathed in. Fighting back to growing urge to cough it out, he continued, "When you realise something buried deep within you is buried in them, too," George felt the back of his worn-out converse connect with the stack on books he had placed on the floor earlier as he took a step back, but somehow, he managed to ignore that, too. "And it feels like meeting a stranger you've known for your whole life."

The quote itself was something George would have laughed at when watching it come up on a Soap Opera at home, but something in him felt utterly rattled by the phrase. A cog churned inside him, shaking its way up his spine, and the boy immediately slammed the book shut. Dust escaped from between the pages due to the aggressive action, disappearing into the cold air in a disappointing array of muddy brown.

"That's quite the quote," Came a firm, distant voice, and George spun on his heels to see where it came from. Honey soaked eyes were met with familiar wooden shelves, stacked to the brim with children's tales and no sign of life, excluding the fictional, anywhere to be found.

George felt nervousness bubble up in his stomach. He felt the need to respond due to human nature, but his introverted ways halted his ability to speak. His palms felt hot.

"It's a good message, don't you agree?" The voice spoke out to him again, this time closer, and yet George still couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from. The person themself wasn't freaking George out, more so his own brain playing mind games with him. His anxiety spiked, and he felt the sudden urge to drop everything and hide.

The brunette hadn't noticed his feet taking him backwards until his shoulder-blade caught the edge of a small shelf behind him. A book from the very top of the cabinet swayed in it's spot, a knocking sound ricocheting as the oak shelf butted the wall behind it, and said book eventually fell from its place. George barely had time to register the mistake and look up before Oliver Twist struck him on the nose, before securing its place on the floor with another loud thump.

Pain blossomed through George's face, and a sweaty hand reached up to pat at his nose, checking for red. Fortunately, it came back empty handed. George shook his head, trying to physically shake the pain away, before bending down to pick up the stray novel.

"Need some help, there?" The same voice came again, and this time, it was closer to George than he realised. His head jerked up, and standing with his lean body pressed against the bookshelf at the end of the isle was a boy. A tall boy who, George noticed, seemed to be around the same age as him. "Sorry if i startled you. I didn't mean to."

His golden locks framed his tanned face in such a way that made it seem as though the sun was beating down on it even in the dimly lit place. Silver necklaces, bracelets and rings covered the boy, head to wrists, and they gleamed under the orange glow of the old lanterns stashed around the place. It took George by surprise--he had automatically assumed that the person calling out to him would be somewhat of a creep, hanging around libraries as a means of villainous prowl rather than a young bloke looking for history and literature study.

George felt his words cling to his tongue as the man stepped forward, and he stayed glued to the spot even when the blonde dipped down next to him. He seemed to ignore George's entire presence, humorously, as he gathered the book in his arms and placed it back where it belonged. Said boy then proceeded to hold a hand out for George to grab, and only then did George dare to make a move. He tilted his head up, face still overrun with bewilderment, and the two finally locked eyes.

George could see the candles from the lanterns flicker in the other's orbs. They were warm and welcoming, and despite everything George knew about strangers--especially in the middle of Florida--he grabbed his hand.

The mystery boy pulled George to his feet, and it was only then that George realised their significant height difference--the blonde towered over George, and the brunette shrinked back into himself when he realised he could easily be overpowered by him.

The boy must have noticed George's hesitancy towards him, as he gladly took a few steps back and held his hands up in a sort of mock surrender. George dipped his head.

The two remained in silence for a few moments while George collected his thoughts and calmed his erratic heart, and the blonde swayed back and forth on his feet to keep himself occupied.

Eventually, he decided to speak up. "I'm Clay, by the way," He started, voice surprisingly gentle, as though George could shatter right in front of him at any moment. "You can call me Dream, if you'd like."

George peered up through brown bangs at the other male, who had his hands clasped together in front of him and feet nervously tapping against the wooden floor.

George briefly wondered why he had chosen to call himself Dream, before remembering that this was the part where he was supposed to reply.

"Oh, okay," He replied, sweat prickling on his forehead despite the cold, winter air. He quickly swiped it away. "I'm George."

George nearly slapped himself for giving the boy his real name. But somehow, he managed to contain himself when the blonde smiled a toothy grin at him.

"Nice to meet you, George."

George felt his chest cloud over. A bright smile had not been given to him for many moons, and yet here was this stranger, giving it away for free. Pure, unfiltered grins like the one he was receiving was something George felt he should always earn.

Somehow, though, for some reason, he let himself bask in it. The mystery man, who had startled George with his daunting presence at first, lit a fire--much like those stationed in the lanterns surrounding them--in George's chest, and he continued to fan it.

"So, that quote, eh?" Dream filled the calm silence. "Quite a modern one compared to the old Latin ones around here."

George narrowed his eyes at the taller, suddenly interested. "Do you come here often?"

Dream hummed. "Too often. I'm usually in the building across the street, though, because that's where the school textbooks are." George listened rather intently at the boy's tale, interested in the type of people that hung around these parts. He was new to the area, and the to the library, so there was no harm in making sure it was a safe place, right? "Figured I'd come check this place out today, though, when I saw the lanterns were lit. They usually aren’t, so I wondered if someone had stumbled their way in."

"Yeah, that would be me," George chuckled half-heartedly, suddenly self-conscious about how he'd let himself into the abandoned place. "Does... Does nobody else come in here?"

"Nope," Dream answered, shrugging, and he dusted himself off lightly when he noticed the cobwebs that had stuck to his clothing. "Afraid you're the only one. I'm sure you can guess that, though, by the amount of damn cobwebs."

George laughed. A breathy laugh, this time, as he watched Dream pluck the fluff off his wool jumper. "Yeah," He agreed simply, and Dream glanced up at him, smiling.

"What were you doing here, anyway?" Dream asked casually, and George tipped his head back to look at the mountains of shelves and story books around them.

"I saw the books from the window on my way to school this morning and I had to check it out," George sighed. "I never had a library this stacked with books back home, so it was like hitting the jackpot when i saw it."

"Bet you're disappointed, then, aren’t you?" Dream asked solemnly, hands raising to rest on his hips. George exhaled.

"Yeah," He peeked down at the pile of books on the floor. "Those are the only ones in this entire library that are written in English."

From Dream’s expression, George guessed the boy was aware. From the way that he talked about the place, George went out on a limb and guessed that Dream had also been disappointed at the lack of native language in the place.

"Seriously," Dream sort of groaned as he reached for a book from the shelf behind him. He pulled it out and swiped a hand over the cover, removing enough dust to see the title. "Why make a library here that no one can understand? Like, what does this even say?"

Dream held the book up to show George, Latin words inked on the front in careful, beautiful calligraphy. George blinked.

"It says, 'Love Is A Special Way Of Feeling'," George translated. When silence followed, his eyes moved back up to meet with Dream's again.

He was utterly shocked to see wide eyes and a pink-dusted face. George blamed the blushing on the increasing temperature that seemed to be weighing heavily on the two--or, George being blind was also a viable option--but the surprised eyes were a different story.

"What?" George chuckled heartily.

"You know Latin?" Dream asked, almost breathlessly. George tilted his head.

"Sort of," He explained, "I took classes when I was really little, so I can only remember small phrases and words." Dream's eyes drifted back to the black title, and George added, "We actually read a bit of that book in the lessons. It's just an English story translated into Latin, so it wasn't that hard to pick up on after reading the English version."

Dream seemed stunned, and after a few heavy moments of silence, George shifted his weight onto his other foot. He suddenly remembered that he didn't actually know Dream at all, and the thought made his heart dip in his chest.

"Do you think you could teach me?--"

"Listen, I should go--"

The two stopped mid sentence as their words clashed, and soon enough the weight that both of their sentences held was extremely apparent. Dream--for sure, this time--flushed a deep red in embarrassment, and George let his mouth open slightly before snapping it shut so quickly that he felt his jaw pop.

171,146. 171,146 words in the English language, and George felt all of them slip through his fingers like grains of sand. It was Dream who managed to speak up first.

"No, yeah, you're right," He started, and George could instantly tell that he was rambling. "It's getting late anyway, and I was planning on leaving soon too so--yeah, we should get going--"

George put a finger up. One finger, and Dream hushed his ranting completely. George took a second to compose himself, sickening astonishment utterly readable all over his features and yet he felt the need to calm the unsteady boy in front of him.

"I think that could be fun," George said. It left his mouth as more of a whisper, but in the deserted structure, it didn't matter.

"Fun...?" Dream repeated, tasting the thought of it on his tongue. George smiled ever so slightly, gaining a slight confidence boost as Dream's sudden amazement.

"Mhm," George hummed, followed by a small nod. "Although, like I said, I'm not very good at Latin, so we'd have to learn together more than me teaching you. If that’s okay?" More silence followed, and George wondered if Dream's head was going to explode.

"Really?" The taller finally spoke, and George felt a weight lift off his shoulders. Suddenly his mind felt free, in a daring way that he wasn't used to--something about Dream's willingness to tackle a new hobby, as well as the fact that he'd asked a _complete stranger_ to help, fanned the flame that was bubbling up inside George.

"Yes, really," George assured, and suddenly Dream's face was brighter than George had seen yet. His smile reached from ear to ear, and George could've sworn that he saw an, almost childlike, glint in the boy's eyes. He ignored it. "Plus, it'll be helpful to actually be able to read the books in this place right?"

George vaguely motioned to the library around them, and Dream took a moment to take it all in too. The thought of being able to expand his horizons past the barrier of English literature made George excited, and from the flush apparent on Dream's face, he guessed that he felt the same.

"Right," Dream agreed. "When do we start?"

The question was so forward that it startled George. He shouldn't have been surprised, though, considering the events that had led up to it. So, he shoved his worries to the back of his mind and let his heart take the wheel.

"How about right now?" He asked bravely. "Unless you were _genuinely_ planning to head home, that is." George raised a teasing eyebrow, and Dream rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly.

"No, I'm free," He answered, and George smiled.

The library turned out to be less empty than George had first realised, but looking back on it, he was so glad it wasn't what he thought.

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed consider leaving kudos & checking out my other works <3
> 
> twitter is @xaccier


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